


Noir

by ScarletRaven1001



Series: BV Drabble Nights [5]
Category: Dragon Ball, Dragon Ball Z, Vegebul - Fandom
Genre: Action, Alternate Universe, BVDN, F/M, Film Noir, Lime, Mature BVDN, Mystery, Romance, Smut, bulma is a spy, february 2019 mature bvdn, spy AU, tpth, vegebul smut, vegeta is the asset
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-23
Updated: 2019-02-23
Packaged: 2019-11-04 07:36:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17894213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScarletRaven1001/pseuds/ScarletRaven1001
Summary: Vegeta is Bulma's most valuable asset, and not just because of the massive intel at his disposal. As the enemies of the state draw closer to them, she will stop at nothing to keep him safe, even at the cost of her own life.A Vegebul Spy AU one-shot.My entries for the TPTH February 2019 Mature BVDNTheme: Film NoirWarning: Smut / Sexual content; Mild Violence





	Noir

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everybody!  
> Here is another oneshot, written for today's Mature BVDN. I hope you like it!  
> Banner by [Bianww](https://twitter.com/BianRWW?s=09)

 

**Rainy Night**

Harried footsteps echoed throughout the dark alleyway, as they slipped frantically along the wet concrete. Fat drops of rain fell upon them as the gloomy skies cast their night into haunting shadows. With a gasp, Bulma pressed her left hand onto the bleeding wound at her side, her right holding tightly onto the clammy grasp that pulled her, urging her to run to safety.

She strained her eyes in the dark, watching her asset as his gaze cast about, anxiously searching for refuge.

They cannot let themselves be found.

His dark, flame-like hair was matted along his forehead, his shirt sticking to his broad back as he panted, breathless from the chase that had led them deep into this deserted hell.

“Vegeta,” she hissed as a painful twinge wracked her, balking as she watched her blood ooze from between her fingers. “You need to go. Save yourself.”

“No,” he growled angrily as he dragged her with him, not willing to let go. “Either we both make it alive, or neither of us do.”

She planted her feet, splashing the tepid flood water onto his pant leg, trying to pull her hand from his tight grip.

“Stop being an asshole,” she said. “You are my asset. Your life is more important than mine-”

“ _Your_ life is important to _me_!” he argued, stopping in his steps to turn and face her, and the rage and desperation that she saw in his narrowed gaze froze her in her struggle.

“Vegeta-”

He turned away, ignoring her protests as he dragged her away, pulling her into an open doorway that she had not even noticed earlier.

He pushed her in, kicking the door closed before he turned, securing the lock.

A harsh light blinded her, and she blinked madly as she took in her surroundings.

8-8-8-8-8

 

**Private Eye**

She had been protecting him for a year; but she had been watching him for far longer.

Before becoming a secret agent for the government, Bulma had worked as a private eye. Her last client had been a powerful politician who had asked her to keep Vegeta on her radar, since he supposedly held vital military information on a rival country.

She had found it odd, silently trailing an unassuming university medical student; but she had her orders. Vegeta, they said, was dangerous.

Now, as she watched him frantically rifle through drawers in search for bandages and medicine for her injury, a worried frown on his handsome face, she could see only a concerned man who wanted to save her from pain.

The bullet that had grazed her, had been meant for him. As she used her body to shield him from harm, the bullet’s impact on her had been far less jarring than the realization that hit her as the metal pierced her flesh.

She had taken the bullet for him without hesitation… and she would gladly do it again.

“Sit here,” he instructed, motioning to a sofa that was in the center of the tiny bungalow that they had run into.

She numbly nodded, raising her arms as he pulled her shirt over her head, barely even wincing as he poured some antiseptic on her wound. He dried her wound, huffing in irritation as the old bandages frayed in his hands.

He sat back as he finished, drying his face with the thin towel that he had used on her, before he leaned closer to drape it over her, briskly drying her hair with his large hands.

“Never, ever, do that again, you hear me?” he muttered.

She chuckled at his furious tone. “What, did I worry you?”

8-8-8-8-8

 

**Femme Fatale**

His brows furrowed, lips thinning into a snarl. “Of course,” he responded.

She frowned as she crossed her arms beneath her breasts, shivering from the cold wetness of her bra and pants. “It’s my job to protect you. My life means nothing, compared to yours.”

“You cannot die. I will not allow it.”

“I am a government agent. I was literally hired to keep you from getting killed-”

“Well, _fuck them!”_ he suddenly roared, face twisted in fury. “You will not let yourself be hurt, not on my account.”

“Vegeta, be reasonable!” she cried, pulling the towel from her blue hair, balling it in her fist as she irritatedly threw it at his chest. “You are my asset-”

“You keep calling me that, your _asset_ ,” he spat, before reaching out, grabbing her shoulders in his large hands, shaking her none-too-gently. His gaze was livid, but somber, as he stared into her eyes. “Tell me, to my face, that I mean nothing to you beyond that.”

Bulma stilled, breath catching in her throat, disbelief freezing the blood in her veins.

She could still recall how he had, as she trailed him what seemed like forever ago, stopped in the middle of a deserted alleyway, and turned decidedly in her direction.

_“Come out and reveal yourself, coward,” he had dared._

She was stunned that he had even sensed her; weighing her options, she decided to walk out, sashaying her hips as she approached.

She was a femme fatale, a dangerous woman; but he had always seemed so immune to her charms…

To hear such words from him, to see his face so agonized, now…

“Vegeta... please…” she whispered.

“You cannot, can you?” he asked.

Before she can pretend to disagree, he pulled her to him, roughly smashing his lips against hers.

8-8-8-8-8

 

**Secret Meeting**

For a stunned moment, Bulma’s eyes widened, and she placed her hands against his chest to push him off. Yet, as he pressed more insistently against her, his warm hands splayed against her back while his sinfully soft lips molded to hers, she felt herself melt into his arms, eyes falling shut as she opened her mouth to let him in.

Bulma tasted him, an intoxicating mix of liquorice and strength… She moaned when she felt his fingers play suggestively at the clasp of her bra, snapping it against her skin as her own hands began to greedily roam his torso.

The sensation of him in her arms felt exhilarating, like when they would have their secret meetings in random locations so he can feed her with confidential information or she would arm him with devices to keep him safe.

She shuddered, impulsively reaching down to tug at the hem of his damp shirt, pulling away from their kiss for the second that it took to wrench his clothing over his head.

Heeding her lead, he made quick work of her bra, throwing it carelessly behind him before his caresses found her breasts, squeezing just hard enough to pull a ragged groan from her lips.

She had known, for a while, that she was attracted to Vegeta.

What she had not known, was how much she had needed him… needed _this._

Bulma dared not resist, as he pushed her to lay back on the couch. He grasped her waist in his hands, leaning down to close his mouth over hers once more.

She panted against him, hungrily swallowing his breaths, her palms smoothing over the delicious contours of his abdomen before wandering further and delving beneath his pants.

He reared up, his hands shaking in urgency as he unbuttoned her jeans, pulling at her clothing until she laid naked before him.

8-8-8-8-8

 

**Cigarette**

She could not stay idle, lustful anticipation running through her as he hovered over her, a wild and hungry glaze shining in his dark eyes. She traced the curve of his sharp jaw with a single finger, while she impatiently grabbed his belt, dragging him to splay over her.

He followed her lead, his lips ghosting over a small scar on her shoulder; a mark left by a cigarette burn, from torture that she had once endured to keep his location secure.

As Vegeta gently held her, reverently trailing tiny kisses up her throat while slipping out of his pants, she thought about their strange relationship, the various times she had risked her life for him, and the many times he had nearly gotten himself discovered or killed, for her.

He held her close, rubbing himself against her core… gyrating slowly against her, making her whimper in delight. She writhed against him in response, snaking her arms around him to feel the smooth muscles on his back and arms, marveling at the sensation of his wide form beneath her fingers.

Bulma’s body coated him in her desire, and Vegeta smirked against her skin before licking a hot and wet trail along her breasts. She moaned, tangling her fingers amongst the thick strands of his hair, pulling slightly as the sensual pleasure soared, burning too hotly for her to handle.

“Vegeta…” she whispered, her voice low and breathy, her heart beating so strongly against her ribcage that she wondered if he could feel it in sync with his own. “Vegeta, come into me.”

With a groan, he held himself in one hand, guiding himself into her core. She keened softly into his ear as he entered her, as he thrust himself into her body, his arms shaking around her as he inhaled tremulously against her neck.

8-8-8-8-8

 

**Double Cross**

“Bulma,” he groaned, pumping with increasing intensity, his hips meeting hers as he dove deeper… harder within her.

Bulma moaned hungrily, her blunt nails scraping down his shoulders and across his back, her lips leaving reverent little kisses on his muscular, bronzed chest.

She held on, her legs winding tightly around him as they raced to that precipice, arching closer to each other… climbing… soaring…

Her vision went white as his name flew in broken fragments from her lips, and he cursed softly against her skin before he stiffened above her, shuddering as he curled around her in the final throes of his passion.

The long day finally caught up to her as she lay silently stroking his back, her fingers lingering on a strange, raised patch of skin that her searching fingers had felt on his lower back. She closed her eyes, drifting into slumber…

When Bulma opened her eyes the following morning, it was to the sight of Vegeta, his back to her, as he pulled his shirt on over his head.

Her breath caught in her chest as she stared in shock.

Below the flawless cuts of his sculpted back, resting above his tailbone, was a small tattoo of a curved emblem, a red symbol with three arrows pointing upward…

The symbol of the Saiyajin nation.

He turned as she reared back, holding a cushion to her chest as she tried in vain to cover herself from his view.

 “You…” she rasped. “You’re Saiyajin?”

He raised a brow at her, carefully stalking closer as a smirk lifted the corners of his lips.

“I am not a simple Saiyajin,” he answered. “I am the Saiyajin _Prince_.”

Her bottom lip trembled in disbelief. “This is why you are under attack? Did you… did you double-cross me?”

He shook his head. “Never. However, I am, as suspected, not subject to this government.”

“How could you do this to me? I thought…”

“Bulma,” he said. “I mean you no harm. In fact, I wish for you to come with me.”

She stared, hurt… _confused_ , as he held his hand out to her.

“Will you join me, Bulma?”

8-8-8-8-8

 

The end…?


End file.
